We Are the World
by high improbability
Summary: A collection of different short oneshots, each concerning our favorite personifications of the world./Not a crack pairing: In which Gilbert is jealous of Marie Curie, and Ludwig is exasperated.
1. America and England: Premonition

**Just something I started around four minutes ago. XD Probably the shortest thing I'll ever write.**

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**"England…hey, England…"

England heard the door squeak open and a small voice reach his ears. Smiling, he opened one eye to see his little charge standing at the door, a terribly frightened look on his face. "Hey, there, America," he greeted softly. "What's the matter?"

The blond colony looked down, and England could see his expression was a mixture of embarrassment and fear. He sighed. "Come on, you can talk to me."

America looked up, and his bright blue eyes were filled with tears. "I-I had a bad dream," he mumbled, and had England not known him for as long as he did, he would not have understood what he had said. "I-it was scary."

When you see a face like that, one that just tugs at your heartstrings, you can't help but smile and want to hug them. "Aw, come on." He smiled and opened his arms wide. "Come here." America obliged, and England embraced the younger nation. "Shh," England whispered softly, "Don't cry. It was just a dream. It's not gonna happen, okay, America?"

The boy hiccupped, and England laughed.

"H-hey, England?" America piped up.

"Yes?"

"C-can I tell you what the dream was about?"

"Sure, if it makes you feel better."

America took a deep breath and stared at his caretaker with serious eyes. "I-I think I was in this big field," he began softly, "And i-it was raining, and muddy, and I-I was standing there, and I was all grown up too, and there were lots of guys behind me." He paused for a few seconds, then continued. "A-and you were there, too, England," he continued, and England felt his eyes widen. "An-and you were holding this gun thingy at me, and y-you were crying, and – and…" America hiccupped again. "I was scared."

England gave the boy a sunny smile. "Hey, now, that's never gonna happen," he said cheerfully. "I'm never going to do that." He gave America a squeeze. "Just remember, I'll always be here for you, all right?"

America grinned brightly. "Hey, England," he said, tugging on the taller nation's sleeve, "Can I sleep here tonight? 'Case I get 'nymore nightmares, of course."

England laughed and squeezed his nose. "Of course." He scooped up the younger nation and walked over to his bed, already thinking of bedtime stories to tell the boy in case he couldn't sleep.

And he had no idea what the dream really meant.

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**Yes, probably the shortest thing I'll ever write. Review~**


	2. France, China, Russia, Holland: Sisters

**So here we are, my brain realizing at LAST that it's too chock-full of Hetalia ideas and that the ideas are to short to put into individual oneshots. So instead of spamming FFNet with individual oneshots, I had the not-so-original idea of putting them all into an archive~! This'll be updated whenever I feel like it. ^^  
**

**SO YEAH.

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Chapter Two**: Sisters

I own nothing.

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France stared at the glass of wine in front of him.

Maybe if he stared at it all his problems would go away.

…It wasn't working.

"Ugh," he cried out to nobody in particular. "_Mon cheri_ Seychelles is ignores me every time she sees me! I feel like an awful big brother!"

"I have it worse, aru." China sighed, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and sitting next to him. He sighed again, and ordered wine from the bartender. "Taiwan is always dragging me out on shopping trips! And I always have to pay for _everything_, aru! All her Louis Vitton bags and Gucci shoes and all that, aru! You have no idea how many times I've had to eat at Japan's place just to afford it all, aru!"

"But Yao-kun has it easy compared to me, da?" France gaped as Russia sat down in the seat on his other side and ordered a glass of vodka. "When it comes to little sisters, I mean. Y-you've all seen what Belarus does, right?"

France sipped his wine and China nodded sympathetically. "Sisters are nice, but sometimes they're just so…problematic, aru!"

"Agreed, _mon cheri_." China gaped at him and was about to say something when Holland sat down on the seat next to him and ordered a glass of beer.

"_Bonjour_, Holland," France greeted tiredly. "Your little sister giving you problems as well?"

The brunette blinked at him and started, "I…don't have a little…" He paused, looked thoughtful for a moment, and his eyes flashed. "Oh, wait."

Three pairs of eyes blinked at him. "Rocky relations," China supplied, and France and Russia nodded understandingly. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Russia opened his mouth.

"Well, I love Belarus and all, it's just that…" he began, but trailed off.

"Well said. Seychelles is a sweet girl…"

"And so is Taiwan, but…"

Holland nodded knowingly.

Suddenly, a gunshot ran through the air and voice reached their ears which made the four nations freeze up in their seats. "I _love_ my little sister!"

France, China, Russia and Holland gaped at the newly arrived Vash Zwingli, who was glaring at them like he was about to unleash the fury of hell.

And instantly the same thought reached their heads.

France looked at China, and China looked at Russia, and Russia looked at Holland, and Holland looked back at France, and a grin found its way on their faces.

"**Weanie."

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**

That night, the resident doctor reported four different cases of gunshot wounds, each on four different people, and the resident bartender reported kicking someone out due to shooting.  


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**Please don't ask me where the hell this came from. ^^" And yeah, I'm aware that France isn't **_**technicall**_**_y_ Sey's big bro, but for the sake of this story let's just say the are, 'kay? Anyway, please review!**


	3. Belarus: Seasons

Elizaveta is like the spring, cheerful, sweet, and energetic. She is like the sun, but calmer yet vibrant at the same time, bringing happiness to some around her, and striking fear into others. She laughs like she can fly, and when she laughs, people _smile_ and feel happy: something I cannot do. But when people anger her, as I have been told, they must cross their fingers and sleep with a gun: she is like the spring indeed.

Mei, as well, is another child of the spring. Sweet, prim, and proper, she is the embodiment of all things ladylike, and yet she is outgoing and childlike at the same time. She has a fondness for plants, as does Elizaveta, and, like the plum flower she so loves, others have a strange kind of fondness for her as well.

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Angelique is like the Indian summer: loud, energetic, and a giggling mess. She loves the outdoors and the sun, and her youthful innocence makes the sight of her make you want to smile. She loves the water, it is almost as if it is a _part_ of her, which I find strange yet interesting at the same time: but only because she is so different from me.

Bella is the summer as well, because she is ever-changing. One moment she is every bit a lady as Mei is, and the next she is as tomboyish and giggling as Elizaveta. She is playful and teasing, yet reserved and ladylike, and this dynamic is so terribly perfect that people are so drawn to her.

Ahn is of the summer, also, but more of the rich, green type. She is cool and collected, down-to-earth and reliable, but also fun to be with, like an older sister. She has an air of ethereal beauty about her that many people find interesting. Like a lotus, she floats on the river that is Earth, going with the flow, but she will not hesitate to put her foot down whenever something goes wrong, which I can't help but admire sometimes.

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Katyusha, my sister, is of the autumn. She is blubbering and hesitant, but hardworking and reliable. She is a crybaby, but a lovable one, and she is incapable of cruelty, although she can be a bit cold when she wants to. She is optimistic and a bit of a pushover, and a country beauty who draws people to her.

Lily is like the autumn as well, so formal and polite, yet so forthcoming. She is a sweet girl with a brother who loves her – _does she realize how lucky she is_, so innocent in her naïveté, so inexperienced in the ways of the world, and yet she is mature and established already, not hesitating to state her own opinion whenever she feels the need to. That, coupled with the innocent, beautiful face that comes with her, makes people fawn over her just to see her sweet smile again.

Charlotte is similar to the autumn as well. Out of all of us, she might possibly be the sanest, what with her sheer intelligence and dryness, and yet she is beautiful and captivating, quick-witted and stern, cold. This alone is enough for her to be interesting towards people.

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And I?

I am winter. Cold and cruel, unforgiving and uninviting. Instead of drawing people to myself they are terrified of me, instead of fawning over me like Mei and Lili's brothers do to them (some people get all the luck, it seems), they tend to avoid me out of terror. I should feel lonely, I should feel isolated in this sense, but I am not.

Among the female nations, I am alone. I am different.

But that is all right, because I know Brother is also of the winter, like I.

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…**What. The. Heck. **

**I – I'll tell you guys this. I fail at character analysis BIG TIME, so I thought I'd try this out for the lulz. I'm all right with how it turned out, but I think I got their personalities all wrong… ^^" Oh, well.**

**Charlotte, Angelique, Ahn, Lili, Katyusha, and Mei are my headcanon names for Monaco (who is official nao, yay), Seychelles, Vietnam, Liechtenstein, Ukraine, and Taiwan (though the last three are practically universally accepted anyway). Also, in my headcanon Monaco's probably the sanest of all the nations, and she has intelligence to match Estonia's and an attitude like Austria's. **

**/shot/ **


	4. North and South Korea: Torpedo

"So it was you."

Im Yong Soo stared across the table at his estranged sibling, who was sipping her tea quietly. "I did no such thing," she hissed in retaliation, her voice darker and edgier than what Yong Soo remembered. "I have no reason to touch your little warship."

Yong Soo raised an eyebrow. "That isn't like you, little sister," he quipped, just the right amount of teasing in his tone. "If I remember correctly, you were always the tattletale when you were little. You were always running to Yao-hyung—"

"Those days are gone," she snapped, biting her lip. "I – _we_ are different now, older brother. But some parts of you are still the same – falsely accusing me of every little trouble that happens to you."

"I don't think so," he replied, his tone dropping to a serious one. "The test reports from Sweden and Australia came in recently. That was after reports from England and America. All four said it was impossible for anyone other than _you_ to sink that ship using your little torpedoes."

"There is still Yao-hyung's opinion," she answered, not looking away. "He has said that he would run tests."

"Just because he is on your side does _not _mean—"

"It does," she hissed in such a low tone that Yong Soo stopped talking. "And even if I did, what would you do? Report it to the little UN Security Council?" she mocked.

"I could," he threatened and his sister's pretty eyes widened. "According to America that _was_ a violation of that agreement we agreed to follow." He held her gaze, and when she didn't say anything, he continued. "However, I won't. You are still North Korea, my sister. However, if you do anything like that again—"

"I understand," she replied, her tone unreadable. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to." She got up, gathered her purse, and flounced out the café, leaving her brother alone with his thoughts once again.

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**I'M SORRY. REALLY REALLY SORRY. I HAD TO DO IT, THEY SAID I HAD TO POST IT.**

**I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia. Review? **


	5. North and South Korea: Aftermath

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Yong Soo looked up, surprised, to see his sister's angry face. "Oh, hello. Good morning."

Her eyebrows shot down and her eyes, so much like his, darkened. "Don't you dare use that tone with me," she hissed. "What is the meaning of this?"

He put on a falsely bright smile. "The meaning of what?" he asked, although he knew perfectly well what she meant.

"Blocking me from your sea routes? What was that about?"

Yong Soo grinned at her. "Oh, that. That wasn't my doing, it was my president's." This didn't seem to deter his sister, who only looked angrier. "And besides," he added, "Sorry, but America and I are doing anti-submarine exercises." He looked pointedly at her. "You know. Just in case."

She glared at him. "And what was that thing with Japan? Did you put him up to that?" she taunted, crossing her arms.

"Lessening his stuff being brought to you was his decision, not mine," Yong Soo replied without missing a beat. "Honestly, you told me I blame you for everything that happens to _you_. Looks like it's the other way around, really."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, really. Is this your attempt at punishing me? You know what will happen if you do that, _brother_." The last word was spoken with such contempt and anger that Yong Soo flinched.

"You will start a war over that? Divide the world onto two opposing sides _again_ just because of _that_?" he retaliated, getting up from his chair. He slammed both hands on the table. "What has become of you, sister?" he yelled, looking her in the eye. "What happened to the cheerful little girl who ran through Yao-hyung's gardens with me, who picked on Hong Kong and played pranks on Taiwan with me? What happened to the girl who would make fun of Japan and cut Vietnam's hair when she wasn't looking? What happened t-to _you_, sister…" Yong Soo paused and hiccuped. "Why are you like this?"

At this he broke down and put his hands to his eyes, which were spilling over with salty liquid. "What…happened?"

She bit her lip and looked away. He had a point, she knew. And yet this was a question she didn't know how to answer. "I…don't know," she whispered, staring at the ground. "I don't know anymore."

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**Don't kill me. I know it was awful, just...iunno. Serious!Yong Soo is just fun. Even if it was out of character.  
**

**Review?  
**


	6. CP01: South Korea, Belarus: Brothers

**Korea/Belarus: Brother**

Korea both loathes and fondly remembers the day Taiwan forced him to come with her to Ukraine's house.

"Come on," she'd said, poking him in the arm. "Come with me."

"Why?" he'd groaned without looking up from the computer screen. "Go by yourself."

She'd given him an exasperated sigh. "_Gege_ said I can't go outside alone because I have to beware of naked Frenchmen and drunk Englishmen or something like that."

He'd glared at her. "Where's China-hyung, then? He can take you."

"At a meeting," she'd replied without missing a beat.

"Japan–"

"–He went out with Greece and Turkey."

"Hong Kong–"

"Seriously, are you so cooped up nowadays watching dramas that you don't know where your own siblings are? Hong's spending the day with Thailand and Vietnam, _remember_?"

"Where are Tibet and Mongolia…?"

She'd groaned then and smacked her hand to her forehead. "Those two are never here, and you know that…"

"Fine." His eye twitching, he switched the computer off and got up. "Where are we going, again?"

"Ukraine's house," she told him fondly. "I'm going to visit her and Belarus."

Brown eyes met brown eyes, and Korea raised an eyebrow at his sister and smiled in anticipation. "Honestly, I can't tell whether you're the best or worst sister ever. Let's just…get this over with."

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"Eeeeeeeek! G-get off me, you–"

Taiwan hits Korea over the side of the head and kicks him in the groin. When she is satisfied with the amount of writhing on the floor that resulted, she bends down and hissed in his ear, "Ugh, I really shouldn't have brought you here! I should have known that you would've tried to 'greet' Ukraine! Do you want to meet Russia's waterpipe…?" She gets up and turns to Ukraine, who is trembling and on the verge of tears. "Ukraine-chan, I'm so sorry! It's just that my brother's really an idiot…"

"I-it's all right," Ukraine sniffles, as if avoiding France hasn't taken its toll on her. "I-I understand…" She is about to say more before a new voice interrupts her.

"What's going on?"

Korea looks up from his spot on the floor to see a very pretty – Aniki is still prettier, though – girl standing on the doorway. She has long, platinum blond hair – almost quite the color of snow, he thinks – trailing down to her waist, and cold amethyst eyes. After thinking for a while, he recognizes her as Belarus, Russia's "batshit insane sister" as Vietnam so eloquently put it, from the world conferences. "Nee-san?" she inquires, looking first at Ukraine then at Taiwan. "Taiwan-chan. What was all that ruckus?"

"Nothing, Belarus-chan," Taiwan swiftly replies, stepping in front of Korea, who doesn't dare get up. "Ukraine and I were just telling each other how nice it was to see each other again."

Belarus looks unconvinced, and peers over Taiwan's shoulder. "What is that behind you?"

"N-nobody!" Taiwan squeaks, carefully eyeing the knife at Belarus's belt. "I – I mean, nothing!"

Belarus raises an eyebrow and sidesteps Korea's sister. She stands over him, eyeing him carefully – she is, really, very pretty, although he's not going to say that out loud just yet if she has a knife. "So you are Korea," she murmurs, almost to herself. "The brother of that funny little man Brother always seems to follow around."

Taiwan closes her eyes and braces for impact, Ukraine hurriedly excuses herself muttering something about getting drinks, and Korea's eyebrows shoot down and he opens his mouth. "Hey! How dare you call Aniki funny?"

Belarus smirks almost psychotically. "Funny, yes. You take after him in a lot of ways, from what I can see. Loud, arrogant, and annoying."

Korea glares at her, although he knows from all these little spats with Japan and Hong Kong and Thailand that responding to insults will bring him nowhere. "Hmph! Aniki's the best brother around! He takes care of me and I _know_ he loves me~" He glances at Taiwan, who is shaking her head frantically. He ignores her and smirks. "Unlike _your_ psycho brother!"

This does it for Belarus, who snaps and yells at him, "How dare you insult brother?"

Korea smiles at her. "How dare _you_ insult brother?"

And the two of them shout at the same time, "My brother is better than _your_ brother!"

Korea laughs.

Amethyst eyes flash with fury, and Belarus' hands reach towards the knife at her belt when Taiwan steps in front of her. "Belarus-chan!" she near-shrieks. "I'm sorry! Bringing my idiot brother here was a mistake." Korea watches her babble apologies while at the same time make sure her friend's fingers are safely away from the weapon. "I'm sorry," Taiwan says again, bowing her head, China's lessons of politeness showing in her. "I assure you, this won't happen again."

For the first time in three minutes Korea turns his eyes to Belarus's pretty face, and notes with surprise the mixture of shock and amusement on her face. "No," she says to Taiwan softly. "I-it's all right. You can…bring him along next time." Belarus pauses, and her eyes meet his. "I…don't mind."

Taiwan's face lights up. "Really? Oh, thank you so much!" She pauses for a few seconds. "But I'd better bring him home. _Gege_ will probably be looking for him." She gives Belarus a sweet smile, and drags Korea out the door, calling out, "And tell Ukraine I'm sorry, I'll come back again!"

The door closes with barely a sound, leaving Belarus standing in the middle of the room. "Natalia?" her sister's sweet voice reaches her ears, and Ukraine walks in, carrying a tray of drinks. "Where did they go?"

Belarus thinks. "They left," she replies quickly. "They had business to attend to." Ukraine looks confused but thinks nothing of it and sets the tray on the table. "Here, Natalia, take some drinks," she offers, extending a glass to her sister. Belarus takes it and sits down.

"Sister?" she asks after taking a sip.

"Yes?"

"Taiwan's brother, this Korea…" she stops, and hurriedly changes the question. "Do you know when the next world conference is?"

And Ukraine smiles lightly and understands.

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**Because she's such a good big sister aww.**

**Anyway, I've decided to do that bag of papers thing where you put everybody's names in a bag then write about the two countries whose names you draw out. I got Belarus and Korea, and figured that their possessiveness over their older brothers would be a great place to start.**

**So yeah. I'll be doing crack pairings for now.**

**Review? :)  
**


	7. CP02: Iceland, Taiwan: Babysitting

**Okay, the second pairing the Almighty Bag of Papers coughs up: Iceland and Taiwan. So, er, yeah. Heacanon says Meimei is good with kids, so...this. Ignore the blatant OOC.  
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**Read and review~  
**

**Iceland/Taiwan: Babysitting**

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Erik rushed through the marketplace, pushing people out of his way and accidentally stepping on plenty of feet – wincing considerably at each "Ow!" he heard, and muttering a "sorry" to each one. "I-I'm sorry!" he squeaked again, after a man he recognized as one of his citizens yelped in pain.

"Peter!" he called out again, and rubbed his hurting throat. "Where are you?"

He felt like banging his head against the nearest wall. Or perhaps call his brother, but he was supposed to be a mature adult, remember? He _should_ be able to handle this.

_Should_ being the key word.

But really, as much as he liked the boy, he couldn't help but think that perhaps Arthur was not a very good brother for letting Peter turn out this way: getting into trouble and/or going missing the moment his current guardian's back was turned.

Unfortunately, right now said current guardian happened to be him.

And even more unfortunately, what happened turned out to be the latter. Erik turned down another alley and searched in vain for the familiar blue sailor's cap.

"Peter!" he yelled out, his throat hoarse. "Sealand! Come on out! This isn't a game, you know!"

He really hated himself now for turning around to buy something Norway had asked him to get and let Sealand run around on his own for two minutes. Really, the first time Berwald trusted him with his 'son' of sorts, and he _lost_ him!

"Peter Kirkland! Where are y–"

"Excuse me," a man tapped on his shoulder and looked at Erik with an annoyed look on his face. "Are you perhaps looking for a blond, bushy-browed boy around twelve wearing a sailor suit?"

"Yes!" Erik gushed excitedly. "That's exactly who I'm looking for! Have you seen him?"

The man nodded and pointed in the opposite direction. "He went that way. Now please leave, sir, before you cause disturbance."

Erik nodded hastily and dashed in the direction the man had pointed to. "Thank you, sir!"

The man smiled a half-smile and rubbed his forehead. Really, kids these days…

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"Hey! Excuse me, sir, I need to—"

Erik pushed through the crowded marketplace and felt like screaming in relief at seeing the blond boy. "Peter!" he sighed in relief, running up to the stall he was standing at. "There you are! I was so worried, I—"

Peter turned around. "Erik! Yo! I was wondering where you were!"

Erik felt like smacking him and hugging him at the same time. "Where did you go? Did you have _any_ idea how worried I was?"

Peter looked thoughtful. "Well, I thought I saw Raivis somewhere in the crowd, and ya see, I gotta talk to him about somethin', but it turned out it wasn't him. Mistaken identity, y'know?" Peter paused. "So I got kinda lost, but this nice lady here took care of me! She kept me entertained and stuff!" Erik followed Peter's finger to see a girl next to him he hadn't seen earlier – probably because he was too busy wanting to hug his friend. She was a slight-figured Asian girl who looked about his (well, human) age in one of those pink Chinese dresses and flowers in her hair – she looked familiar, who was she again? She was staring at him under long eyelashes, and he felt his face heat up.

"Er, g-good day," he stammered. "I-I'm Erik. Iceland. I'm supposed to be babysitting—"

"Peter, I know," she cut in brightly in a cheerful tone. "He told me about you." She held out her pale hand. "Taiwan, but you can call me Mei."

Ah, Taiwan. Erik remembered hearing about her from Hong Kong, who sometimes came by with England sometimes – he was smitten with her, even _Erik_ could tell that – Hong would tell him how she and Yao would fight all the time, and how _well_ she and Kiku got along, and how she and Yong Soo used to go around pranking people – in fact, in the back of his head, Erik vaguely remembered a bucket of water falling on his head and her voice giggling in the background…

"Erik! Dude!" Peter snapped, and Iceland shot back down to reality. "Ah, yes, Taiwan…Hong Kong's sister," he managed to get out, weakly taking the offered hand.

She laughed. "That's what he keeps saying," she told him, "But we're not _really_ siblings," she informed them. "Yao adopted me, then him. So more of adopted siblings, like Japan and Korea and Thailand. But he's older," she added quickly.

"It must be nice to have so many older siblings," Iceland put in. "I only have Nikolas, in fact…"

"No, it isn't!" Sealand's voice in the background insisted. "You should see Arthur and our other bros when they get together, it's awful! They get drunk all night and act like morons!"

Taiwan pat him on the head and told him she was _sure_ it was awful, and turned to Erik. "Nikolas…Norway, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Erik admitted. "I was buying something for him when this guy got lost." Peter flashed the two of them a big, toothy grin. Taiwan smiled and stared at him again. Suddenly shocked at how warm his face had become, Iceland took Peter's hand. "W-we should go," he told her. "I'm sure we're just holding you up…thanks so much for taking care of Peter, by the way."

"But she told me she doesn't have to cook dinner for her family till later, Erik," Peter whined. "Can't she stay? She's so much fun~"

Mei looked away and Peter looked at them with pleading eyes. "Please, Erik?"

"W-well, maybe she doesn't want to," Erik muttered, and turned to Mei. "Is it all right with you?"

"It's fine," she assured him. "I have experience with little boys, don't worry. All those years of replacing Yong Soo's diapers rub off, you know?"

"I'm not little!" Peter insisted indignantly. "I'm a nation, I tell you!"

"Of course you are. I'm sorry," Taiwan giggled, patting him affectionately on the head. "You'll have to grow bigger, though."

"I will!" he exclaimed. "And when I become a full nation my acceptance speech'll be all about you – after I mention Papa and Erik and Raivis though. I won't mention Jerk England! You know Raivis and Lily tell me about you? They told me you're really nice…"

_He's really grown attached to her, and I guess he's only ever acted that way around me, Berwald, and Raivis, _Erik noted._ It's as if she has this charm with children that just draw them to her. _He smiled.

"Really?" Mei was saying, seating herself and Peter on a nearby bench and signaling Erik to do the same. "Arthur did that? Well, let me tell you about this one time Yong Soo was little and he…"

* * *

"_Bror_."

Erik looked up. "Nikolas!"

"How was babysitting the little monster?"

Iceland flushed. "O-okay."

"Nothing interesting happen?"

"No."

Norway raised an eyebrow. "Sealand tells me you met China's little sister at the marketplace – the younger one. And the fact that you did act quite attracted to her."

Iceland jumped out of his seat. "T-the brat!" he near-yelled. "Sealand told you that? When I get my hands on his little…"

"So it's true, then." Norway gave him a half-smile. "He also told me she's quite pretty."

"What? No—"

But his brother had already walked away, a knowing smile on his face.

Iceland felt like smashing his head on the nearest wall.

Or splashing cold water on his face to get rid of the blush.

But before that, he had to maul Sealand first.


	8. CP03: Spain, Thailand: Replacement

...Mr. Paper Bag seems determined on shipping off all my Asians. D:

I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia.

**Thailand/Spain: Replacement**

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Sunan coughed into his hand and looked cautiously around. He was pretty sure he _should_ know the place, seeing as who he _should_ be.

But he _wasn't_ who he _should _be.

Technically.

Yeah.

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"_Sunan," Lien had told him, a serious look in her dark eyes. "We need you to infiltrate the Habsburg Mafia for us." _

"_You must mean me and Mei," he'd corrected, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Or just her. She's the spy, after all." _

"_No," Lien told him firmly. "You. Only."_

"_W-why me?" he'd stuttered, looking at the weapon specialist. "You know I can barely hold my own in espionage." He stared at her, and when Lien didn't move, he sighed. No way around it, then. "Who am I supposed to be?" _

"_Roderich Edelstein, head of the Habsburg Mafia. They're rising in power, and we need to stop them as soon as possible." Lien looked at the clipboard. "You'll have to be him for a few days. Just as long as Kiku and Hong get him tomorrow night, and you'll find out their inner workings and other information while we squeeze info out of Edelstein and possibly hold him hostage."_

"_E-_Edelstein_?" Sunan choked, nearly spitting out his water. "Lien! Do you know how _bad_ I am at the piano? Plus you're forgetting that one lady he's supposed to be married to—"_

"_You'll be fine." Lien cut him off sharply. "Yao tells us he's supposed to be out tomorrow at dinner. Kiku and Hong will get him then, and then you'll go back in his stead." She coughed. "You and Edelstein look very much alike – except for a few minor differences, which Mei can fix easily. In the meantime, Yong Soo will give you some basic lessons on the piano, and Yao will give you the rundown on his inner circle." _

"_What about Hedervary—his_ second in command? _I'm pretty sure she can tell the difference…!"_

"_She'll be easy. Just act all lovey-dovey towards her, and…" Lien trailed off, and looked away. "Good luck."

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_

He was uncomfortable.

This stupid blue coat was too long and too stuffy. Sunan wondered how Roderich bore it.

"All right. According to Mei's notes, the office should be somewhere here…Oh!"

His books (stolen from the local bookstore, of course) collapsed onto the floor, and he was pushed backwards by a force colliding into his body. "Ow!"

"Oh – oh _dios_, boss, I'm so sorry!" Sunan looked up, disgruntled, at a handsome young man about his age, with tanned skin and dark brown hair. Emerald green eyes looked at him with worry. It took a while for Sunan to recognize him as Antonio, one of Roderich's underlings.

"_You be careful of that Antonio," Mei had muttered, carefully applying a black dot of long-lasting makeup to Sunan's face. "He may seem nice, but he's really as dark and sneaky as that Braginski guy."_

"_Antonio Fernandez Carriedo is one of the most convincing guys in the business," Yao had droned. "He'll take your coffee for you one minute, then stab you in the back the next."_

"_Trust no one," Kiku had told him firmly._

"I-I'm so sorry, boss, really!" The man extended a hand, and Sunan took it without hesitation. "…_Danke_," he muttered.

"W-wow, boss, are you okay?" the man asked cheerfully, handing him his books (on classical music, just in case). "You're usually not this nice."

_Oh, shit. Angry musical genius, right._ Something clicked in Sunan's mind. "I'm just having a good day, is all. Now get back to work, Carriedo." That was his name, wasn't it?

"All…right." Antonio held his gaze a little longer than Sunan would like to admit. "By the way, boss, Miss Elizaveta is looking for you. She's in your office."

Sunan gave him a curt nod and walked away, his mind lingering on that nice brunette man he'd just met.

* * *

"Roderich!" Elizaveta – that was her name, wasn't it? – smiled at him. "I was looking for you."

"Elizaveta, good day," he greeted politely, remembering Lien's words. "How was your day?"

"Fine," Elizaveta replied, tucking brown hair behind her ear. "Where _were_ you all day? I had to send Antonio to look for you." Ah, so that was it.

"I – I was taking care of some things," Sunan replied, feigning his best German accent (in Kiku's opinion, it was pretty good. He was a polyglot, after all, languages were part of his specialty) "Have you had your dinner yet?" That was how that prissy aristocrat talked, right?

"No," she replied, looking confused. "Don't we always eat dinner together?"

"Ah, I'm sorry," Sunan said hurriedly, thinking fast. He grabbed a cup of coffee on the desk and drank it. "It slipped my mind." _It should be Mei doing this; she's a natural at this._

Elizaveta looked at him with a mixture of hurt and confusion, and then nodded. "I understand. I know you're busy bringing down the Oriental Mafia."

Sunan nearly spit out his coffee. _Oriental mafia…downfall…Yao…Kiku…Yong Soo…Mei…Hong…they have to know about this. Lien… _He coughed lightly, covering up his disbelief. "Yes," he murmured. "So I am."

"Boss?" Antonio poked his head into the room. "I have letters from Mr. Adnan…"

"Hurry, bring them in," Elizaveta urged, gesturing for Antonio to come into the room. "We need those papers. They have inside information on Mr. Wang…"

Sunan felt faint, and he felt his cheeks heating up. Antonio looked at him strangely, and handed the papers to Elizaveta.

"Roderich?" Elizaveta looked at him curiously. "Are you all right? You seem…off your groove." Sunan raised an eyebrow at her.

"Hey, boss, maybe you just need a bit of your daily piano," Antonio remarked teasingly. "I haven't heard you play at all." Elizaveta nodded serenely. "Yes, that must be it."

_Shit. Not good, not good, not gooood…_ "I'm sorry, I will just retire early tonight. I feel a migraine coming on."

"What about our dinner?" Elizaveta pouted, fingering the flower in her hair.

"My sincerest apologies, Elizaveta. Tomorrow, perhaps." Sunan paused, and managed to choke out an "_Ich liebe dich_."

"Szérétlék," she replied, smiling softly.

Sunan wanted to throw up. He stole a glance at Antonio, who was staring at him. Sunan felt his cheeks flush, and he muttered a "Goodbye," to the both of them, his mind swirling.

* * *

Sunan turned around, and made sure that nobody was behind him. "Yao," he hissed into the cell phone, tossing various throwing knives and a gun onto his belt. "Yao!"

"Sunan?" Yao's confused voice came over the cell phone. "Is this you?"

"I had to steal a cell phone from a man on the street," he muttered. "A phone with which no calls would be logged."

"I understand," Yao's voice came over the static. "Now where—"

"_Shit_!" Sunan swore, realizing he'd lost the connection. Without panicking, he dialed Kiku's number, to no success. Mei's, Yong Soo's, and Hong's phones had little success.

"Lien," he muttered. He wondered what she was doing now. If she was okay.

Antonio…

That was another story. He had nothing to do with this.

"Well, I guess there's no other way around it." Sunan smiled. "Time to bolt."

* * *

He made sure Elizaveta was asleep, and left the room. The night was lovely, with a full moon in the sky, surrounded by stars. To ones right, Venus shone brightly. If one look closely enough, they could see the Milky Way, a beautiful hazy white shape in the sky.

Sunan paid no attention and bolted out of the house, heading towards the gate. _Shit, the gate keys! I left them in the room…_

_Improvise, man, you're supposed to be good at this. _"Mei, forgive me for this," he muttered, taking out the hairpin she had fastened into a very convincing cowlick and tried to pick the lock on the gate. He was almost through…

"Where do you think you're going?"

Sunan's heart rose in his throat, and turned around to see a familiar pair of emerald eyes glittering in the dark. "Antonio…" he croaked.

Antonio smiled sinisterly. "I suggest stay where you are, because Miss Hedervary won't be very happy when she realizes you tried to leave. Or the fact that you've tried to place calls to places outside here…specifically another mafia."

Sunan felt bile and blood rise. "Y-you! You got rid of the signals!"

"I did." Antonio's smile grew wider. "You know, boss, Gilbert called yesterday. He was wondering where you were. Said Ludwig was, too. Bella, too, left some of her chocolates for you. And Vash left a letter and his new number. Lily sent you some things." He stepped closer, and Sunan found himself petrified, unable to move. "Do you know how many of them there are out there, boss? Do you know how many people wallow in self-pity over the fact that you choose Miss Elizaveta over them, myself included, Mr. Roderich Edelstein?" Antonio laughed darkly. "Oh, wait. I meant _Mr. Sunan Wattana_."

"H-how did you know?" Sunan was disgusted at the fact that his voice was cracking, and felt his heart stop.

"_Antonio is the Habsburgs' best spy," Mei told him. "He can do anything he wants, and nobody would _ever_ know."_

"You knew…" Sunan mumbled. "You knew it was me all along."

"Of course." Antonio gave him another sinister grin. "It's not too hard to tap into somebody's private phone lines – you should get a new electronics technician by the way, it's too easy – and listen in to their conversations, you know. Also," Antonio paused, and Sunan could see just a flicker of sadness in his eyes. "Boss _never_ misses a chance to eat dinner with Miss Elizaveta. Never also does he turn down a request to play piano. Ever."

"_Hey, boss, maybe you just need a bit of your daily piano," Antonio remarked teasingly. "I haven't heard you play at all."_

"So that's why," he mumbled. His hand tried to move towards his belt, but he found himself unable to move. He closed his eyes, and thought of Yao, Kiku, Yong Soo, and Hong. His brothers. He thought of Mei. His sister. He thought of Lien. _I'm sorry._

"Yes, that's why." Antonio stepped even closer, green eyes twinkling. "But since you look so _much_ like Boss, I guess you'll have to do."

He pressed Sunan's body against the wall, and Sunan couldn't remember what happened after that.

* * *

…**I'M SORRY I SHOULDN'T HAVE POSTED THIS AT ALL**

**Anyway, Tonio, you sexy two-faced devil you~**

**Review!**


	9. CP04: Hungary, New Zealand: Ambiguous

Elizaveta's interest was piqued.

"G'day, mates," Jack had said at the last World Meeting from hell, pointing to an unknown nation beside him, Ludwig looking on approvingly, "This is New Zealand, my sibling. Ya know, the country neighborin' me? Yeah."

He'd said no more, and Elizaveta had noticed the new nation's androgynous features: short brownish-blond hair cut in a bob style, a long haircurl protruding from the side that bob style, and a very loose sweater. Again, she noticed that nobody made a comment about this or ask about New Zealand's gender: probably because nobody was paying attention. Or did they know already? Frowning, she wondered more about the new nation's relationship with Australia, and again wondered in frustration whether New Zealand was male or female.

New Zealand smiled slightly, and Ludwig gestured for the new nation to sit on the currently last remaining empty seat at the long table ("This is temporary," he'd said): next to Elizaveta. She bit her lip excitedly and on her other side, Roderich sighed in exasperation.

Australia's sibling slid into the seat next to her, and she turned towards him. "My name is Elizaveta Hedervary," she greeted smilingly. "Hungary, if you prefer."

"Austria," Roderich piped up, not wanting to be left out or not wanting Hungary to do anything drastic. "Roderich Edelstein. I do request that you do _not_ call me Roddy, Dick, _or_ Australia," he added hotly.

"Don't mind him," Elizaveta told the new nation soothingly, noticing the shocked, scared expression. "Roderich can be a little…stiff sometimes." She smiled sweetly, taking in New Zealand's terribly gender-neutral features: the face was not distinctly female, like Natalia's, nor was it incredibly manly like Ludwig's. It was more of something like Norway's, but even somebody with half a brain could tell Norway was male. And despite the female, er, _characteristics_, one could tell her friend Feliks' masculinity by his obvious booblessness. This, on the other hand, was another case altogether. She sighed inwardly, wanting to know the _details_ of New Zealand and Australia's relationship (Siblings only? Pshaw! If he was a guy it would be sooooo droolworthy…), but it would be so _rude _to ask.

"New Zealand," said androgynous nation replied. _God_, even the _voice_ was androgynous! "You could call me Sam."

"Sam…" she prodded.

"Just Sam. Sam Kirkland, if you prefer."

Hungary frowned as Roderich's attention turned back to his classical music playlist on the iPod. How could this new nation be so totally gender-neutral, body, voice, _name_, and all that one couldn't tell at _all_? She looked around her. Everybody looked too immersed in their own business to care.

"Elizaveta," Ludwig called from the front of the room. "Please come up here and discuss your country's financial situation."

Relieved to get a break from the perplexing androgyny of the Oceanic country, Elizaveta stood up.

* * *

"No, Gilbert, I _told_ you. I'm busy tonight." Elizaveta walked out of the meeting room, a pleading Gilbert not too far behind.

"But _El'zaaaaaa_. You're always busy – Ow!" Gilbert's cheek throbbed as a frying pan hit him in the cheek. "Veta!"

Elizaveta sighed. "Gilbert, I'm sorry, Roderich and I are going somewhere tonight. Maybe tomorrow." She put her hands on her hips, showing her decision was final.

"Agh." Gilbert made a defeated noise. "I really don't see what you see in him, El'za."

"He's your cousin. You should know him well enough." Elizaveta smiled lightly. "Maybe tomorrow~" she sang out, walking towards the restrooms. Gilbert groaned and muttered something about needing maple syrup before he walked away.

Sure, Gilbert was nice enough. Loud, rude, and obnoxious, yes, but nice. But still he could be pretty annoying, especially when it came to needing a date. And Elizaveta was tired.

All tiredness disappeared, however, disappeared when she saw Sam walking towards the restroom area, and she perked up, wondering if she would finally find out the new country's gender. She darted behind a column and watched.

Fail. Sam took out his (her) phone (It was black! Everybody had a black phone nowadays!) and started talking into it. "Jack, hi. Yeah. Arthur told me as well. His house? All right."

Ugh. So it was about some stupid Kirkland Family British Empire reunion. Great. Elizaveta wanted to smash something, but this was an expensive building. She'd have to find Gilbert's face later.

* * *

"Where are you going?" Roderich looked at her with a neutral expression, hanging up his coat.

"To Vash and Lily's," she replied, readying her camera. "I promised to help Lily out with something." Lie. Oh, Kiku would be so proud of her.

Roderich shrugged and turned up some classical music station on the radio. "Don't come back too late."

"I won't," she promised, already halfway out the door.

"Arthur's house. Right." Elizaveta followed the usual route: hadn't she stalked Arthur and Francis more than once down this road? She arrived at the brightly lit Victorian household, and peeked in the window. She was going to find out Sam's gender if it _killed_ her.

Sam was excitedly talking to Alfred – wait, she meant his brother…what was his name? Matthew, right. And Sam was wearing _another_ stupid baggy sweater and loose jeans: only this time it was _khaki_. Antonio wore khaki, Lovino sometimes wore khaki, but then again so did Bella and Katyusha on occasion. Dangit.

Then Sam moved to the refreshment table and got a punch and sat in a corner until Jack swung by and the siblings started talking. Still nothing. Nothing could be drawn from the body language at _all_.

Sam gave no hints to their gender for the next two hours, and Elizaveta was frustrated. She wanted to scream, she wanted to punch something, she wanted to look for Gilbert or Matthias and maul them, she—

"Elizaveta? Mate?"

She froze up as the familiar accent reached her ears. "Jack!" she greeted stiffly, slowly turning around. "Good evening?"

"What're you doing here?" Jack asked curiously, standing in the gigantic doorway. She must have made a strange sight, peeking into the window like some outsider.

"E-er, S-Sam, he—" she began, but Jack cut her off.

"My sister wanted you here, actually," he said thoughtfully.

"Sister?" Elizaveta asked sharply. _Was it…_

"Yeah. Wy. She's cute, isn't she?" he boasted proudly, reminding Elizaveta just the _tiniest_ bit of Antonio. "Wanted her Eliza-nee-san at the party. Told her you couldn't come. And here you are!" he exclaimed. "She's going to be _overjoyed,_ I tell ya."

"What about Sam?" she asked warily, taking a chance. "Isn't she…"

"Sam's my brother." Jack shrugged and looked at her strangely. "I thought it was obvious." He laughed. "Boy, Sammy's never going to live this down. Somebody actually thought he was a chick!" Jack sobered up, touched the Band-Aid on his nose, and turned to her. "He's there inside somewhere. If you still want to come…"

"No. Thank. You." Elizaveta was seething. "Tell them hi for me." She couldn't believe it! It was _that_ easy? Maybe she just adjusted her mindset so that everybody was more feminine. In fact, she vaguely remembered Kiku muttering something about her "thinking everybody was a _bishounen_," whatever the hell that meant. She groaned inwardly. Where was Gilbert? Her frying pan needed an exercise.

"All right, mate," Jack replied, walking back inside. "If you say so. Sammy says hi, too, by the way. He's been asking about you a lot lately. Pretty disappointed when I told him you were taken." With that, Jack smiled at her and closed the door behind him, leaving Elizaveta alone in the night with a shocked expression on her face; thinking.

* * *

**I must say I don't like this one at all. D: But I was lazy and I didn't want to change it. Eh.**

**Reviews are loved. Remember: First reviewer gets to know what the next pairing is! |D**


	10. CP05: Austria, Norway: Duet

**Austria/Norway**: **Duet**

Nikolas groaned in frustration once again and slammed tired fingers on the World Conference's grand piano. Why did Erik's favorite song have to be on the goddamn _piano_, for gods' sake, and why did his birthday have to be coming up so quickly? Why had he bothered to come an hour early to the world meeting just to get to that grand piano?

And _why_ was he such a good brother that he was trying to learn that stupid song just to play it at that party?

His ring finger missed a black key, and he swore out loud, thankful the room was empty, and tried again.

Then he botched a chord, and he was on the verge of giving up and just buying Erik a birthday card or some puffin stuffed animal when he heard voices coming down the hallway.

"Like I said, Roderich, I don't see why you refuse to go to Vash's party…"

"Elizaveta, I wasn't invited. Going without an invitation is undignified."

Nikolas heard a sigh. "It's always dignity with you, isn't it?" They stepped out of the hallway and into the main conference room when Elizaveta spotted Nikolas at the piano. "Nikolas! Hey!"

Nikolas raised an eyebrow at her and felt like smashing his head on the piano keys when Roderich spoke up. "Ah, Norway. Good day. So it was you who was…_playing_ earlier."

"Yes, so what of it?" Nikolas deadpanned, adjusting his hat, although he was pretty sure he knew where this was going.

"Do you perhaps need assistance?" Roderich asked, primly straightening his cravat. Elizaveta let out a barely muffled squeal and melted into the background, her hand on her camera.

Nikolas didn't answer and instead muttered something under his breath. Roderich frowned. "I suppose I'll take that as a yes, then." He motioned for Nikolas to move over and seated himself on the piano seat. "I didn't know you…played," Roderich said, flexing his fingers.

"No." Nikolas hated admitting it. "It's just that Erik's birthday is coming up, and…"

"Ah." A ghost of a smile hovered on Roderich's lips, as if he knew something Nikolas didn't. "So what song does Erik…"

"_You Raise Me Up_." Nikolas cut in, frowning. "It isn't even _Icelandic_," he added in frustration, remembering Erik's reaction the first time he'd heard the song. Taking Arthur up on his offer watch that _Westlife _concert was a _very_ bad idea indeed.

"It's a lovely song, though," Elizaveta put forward, smiling meaningfully.

"True." Roderich smiled as well. "I know how to play it, as well." He took the music sheets from the piano and studied them for a minute, then put them down and closed his eyes.

Nikolas bit his tongue to stop from groaning. Of _course_ Roderich knew how to play it. The man knew how to play half the songs in the world. He was probably best buds with Beethoven and Mozart while they were still alive. But still, for the sake of politeness, he said, "Could you?"

Roderich nodded silently, and Nikolas got up and watched as Roderich's fingers struck the piano keys, gently at first, and then getting more passionate and more beautiful as the song went by. The resulting music was lovely, and the notes soared up to the ceiling, reverberating, echoing, in the grand walls of the World Conference building. Nikolas stood back, impressed, and even Elizaveta looked surprised.

* * *

"Dear, that was lovely," Elizaveta breathed when Roderich had finished. Roderich smiled at her in thanks.

Nikolas, on the other hand, was shocked. "I-I can't possibly learn that in _two days_!" he cried, indignant.

"You don't have to." Roderich gave him another half-smile. "I hear you play the violin, do you not?"

Nikolas nodded slightly, and Elizaveta cut him off. "I've heard him play!" she cried. "He's _fantastic_ at it!" Nikolas stared at her. He _never_ played in public: only at home. But then again, this was _Elizaveta_. Nikolas made a mental note to himself to not do anything that would prompt her to use blackmail.

"Then play it," Roderich replied matter-of-factly. "It's simple. You play this song on the violin; I accompany you on the piano. A duet."

Nikolas swore under his breath. _Why_ hadn't he thought of that before? "All right."

"Give me a piece of paper, then," Roderich said. Elizaveta dutifully gave him a notebook (that had YAOI printed in front…Nikolas didn't want to know.) and he flipped to the back page, closed his eyes, and started writing. After a few of minutes he handed it to Nikolas. "Here you are. The violin notes. Shall we practice now?"

Nikolas looked at the paper, then at Roderich, then back again, amazed. Some people really were geniuses. But he shrugged and took a violin from the ones lining the shelves. The violin, though not his, felt at home in his hands, and the bow was like the one he kept at home.

"Careful with that, now," Roderich warned, flexing his fingers again. "That's a Stradivarius you're holding there."

"I _know_." Nikolas glared at him, only to find that he was smiling. He rested his head on the neck support and took a deep breath.

"Are you ready?"

Nikolas nodded, took a deep breath, and _played_.

* * *

Elizaveta was squealing with happiness. "That was even more beautiful than the first time!" she cried out. "You guys are fantastic!"

"Thank you," Roderich said again, and turned when he heard applause coming from the doorway.

"That was awesome!" South Korea came into the room, followed by his siblings. "Austria, you have to teach me how to play!"

Taiwan turned to Nikolas. "Your violin was lovely, too! It sounded so…_ethereal_!"

"Truly something worth listening to," Kiku commented approvingly.

"So that was Norway and Austria playing?" Belgium popped up from behind Vietnam, Romano, Spain, and her brother in tow. "It sounded gorgeous!"

"It did, didn't it?" Alfred called from the second floor.

"Of course, that's an Irish song, you prat! It's almost as bad as that your dumb _Titanic_ movie!"

"Eh, but Arthur, you _cried_ during _Titanic_..."

Soon the entire room was filled with buzzing nations, talking about the performance. Nikolas seemed lost in the middle of all of it with a confused look on his face.

"Wait!" Elizaveta squealed the squeal that made men hush up in fear. She turned to Taiwan. "Can you sing?"

Her friend shrugged, and Yao cut in for her. "She's being modest, aru. Wan-chan is a mean soprano."

"Well, then, so is Bella," she countered. "And Lien is a wonderful alto."

"Su-san has a lovely bass voice also," Tino piped up, and Berwald flushed. "So does Heracles-san. Alfred-san is pretty good with tenor."

"Wait." Arthur pushed himself to the middle of the crowd and frowned at Elizaveta, who smiled back at him. "You're going to make us _sing_?"

"Why not?" Elizaveta chided. "It's a charming song with just piano and violin, Arthur. It'll sound even more wonderful with people singing it. And you're the one who's always going on about bonding time." She turned to Roderich and Nikolas. "They will accompany us, of course. Also, I hear you're a great tenor." She stuck out her tongue at him, and Arthur seethed and muttered something about some people never growing up.

"It sounds fun, I guess," Toris noted. Feliks, on the other hand, was nodding excitedly.

"I think it's a great idea!" Matthias said, and grinned at Arthur. "And the best part is that Erik isn't even here yet."

"_Fine_! Why do you all gang up on me?" Arthur swore under his breath and disappeared into the crowd.

"Are you guys ready?" Elizaveta asked excitedly, ignoring him, and was met with a crowd of nodding heads. She took a deep breath. "Listen, the girls sing the first part, all right, and after that, Berwald, you're going to…" As she gave out directions, Roderich seated himself on the grand piano again, and prepared to play the song for the third time that day. Next to him, Nikolas started flexing his fingers and rested his head on the violin.

"Okay, one, two, three…"

Nikolas didn't know what was better: the exhilarating feeling of his fingers running up and down the violin strings and the fact that several beautiful voices were singing with the violin, or the sight of seeing a teary-eyed Erik in the doorway, his hand on his chest and an incredibly touched expression on his face. Nikolas smiled at him, and then glanced at Roderich, who winked.

They were still people, after all.

_You raise me up_

_To more than I can be.

* * *

_

**Blame Josh Groban for this. Completely. I listened to him for the first time in a couple of months last Sunday and this is the brainchild of that and Paper Bag-sama's crack pairings. The bad thing is that this isn't even decent. It's more of a Norway/Iceland brotherly thing than anything shipping-related. /bangs head on wall**

** (Also, does Norge even play the violin in canon? It's just that I've seen far too many fanworks of him doing so, so this.)**_  
_

**On a side note, the Hetalia cast would make a **_**great**_** singing group. Just saying. :D**

**Review? First reviewer gets to know the next pairing! **


	11. CP06: Monaco, Poland: Similarities

**Monaco/Poland: Similarities**

"Hey, Charlooootte."

She looks at him and pushes her glasses up her nose. "Poland," she comments slowly. "Hello."

He smiles at her childishly and plops down behind her on the bench. "Whatcha doin'?"

Charlotte sighs. "What do you want?"

Feliks raises an eyebrow at her. "Weren't you like,_ listening_ during the conference?"

"No?"

"Well, one minute Artie was all, 'take fiscal responsibility,' or like, something else that was totally boring, and then three minutes later he's, like, 'bonding time,' blah blah blah, and he like, had this totally lame idea where we have to split into pairs and talk about our similarities or something boring like that." Feliks sighs and plays with a strand of his straw-blond hair. "So yeah."

Charlotte groans. "And I'm stuck with you _why_, again?"

"Because he drew the names out of a hat, duh." Feliks giggles. "You should've like, _seen_ his face when he got himself paired up with Francis! He, like, was all 'never mind,' but of course he, like, totally can't do that."

"So…I'm paired with _you_," Charlotte notes, eyebrow still raised, hand on her forehead.

"Well, duh. You think I would've been, like, hanging around here if we totally weren't?"

Charlotte sighs, puts the book down, and turns to him. "All right," she says. "Similarities."

"Well, we're both, like, totally blond," he pipes up.

"No! Personality similarities," Charlotte replies. She thinks for a second. "What's your favorite animal?"

Feliks laughs again. "Ponies, duh."

Charlotte bites her lip. "I'm more of a dog person myself. Your turn." She gestures for him to ask a question.

"Hmmm." He frowns and puts his hand on his chin. "I like, wanna ask you: What's your opinion of Ivan, 'cause I totally like, hate him."

"He's fine," she replies. "He's nice enough." Feliks frowns, and she ignores him and instead asks lightly, "What's your favorite subject?"

"Art," Feliks replies happily. "It's fun."

"Literature is fun," Charlotte answers dryly.

"Geez, Charlotte, you're like, way boring," Feliks comments.

"Boring is a relative term," she replies, just a twitch of a smile on her lips. "To me, you're pretty boring."

Feliks smiles anyway. "Do you like, think Liet and Natalia look cool together, because I so totally don't," he asks, pouting.

Charlotte raises an eyebrow. "I'd say they look great," she counters. "Their looks complement each other. Also, their personalities clash, and in novels people whose personalities clash _always_ get together."

Feliks glares at her. "Not you too!"

Charlotte smiles smugly. "What sport do you play?"

"Chess." He shrugs.

She gives him a dry laugh. "Chess barely qualifies as a sport," she retorts. "I play tennis, in fact."

He groans. "This, like, totally isn't working out. We have like, nothing in common." Immediately he brightens. "What's your favorite color, 'cause mine's totally pink!"

"I like blue," Charlotte shoots back. "Pink's a gay color."

"Hey!" Feliks glares at her. "Lizzie, like, totally won't be happy, you know. Or Mei. Or–"

"Not for girls." Charlotte smirks. "For girls it's fine. But real men _don't_ wear pink, FYI." She laughs at Feliks' infuriated reaction, and instantly he lightens up. "You laughed," he said.

"So?"

"I thought boring people, like, didn't laugh at all." Feliks snorts, and then notices the badge pinned on her chest. "Hey! I like, totally dig that, but it's upside down, hon."

"What?" Charlotte glances at the badge, then back at him. "What are you talking about? That's fine."

"No, duh." Feliks raises an eyebrow at her. "Charlotte, if you're like, totally going to wear a badge of the Polish flag on your chest, you have to, like, wear it right-side-up!"

"_Polish_ flag?" Now it's Charlotte's turn to laugh. "That's the Monacan flag, dummy."

"Is _not_." Feliks looks amused. "That's an upside-down Polish flag."

"Fool!" Charlotte replies jokingly. "Indonesia won't be happy to hear you say that, you know. She's pretty proud of it."

"Because people are like, totally not original nowadays, and, like, don't want to think of their own flag designs."

"Like Holland and Luxembourg?"

"Yeah!" He looks at her in agreement. "Lux's cool and all, but couldn't she have, like, thought of a new design that didn't just change the shade of red? And there's Feli and Lizzie, and Bella and, like, Ludwig, and, like, just look at the Nordics! Their flags are like, all totally the _same_ except for the colors. Norway and Iceland, like, _especially_. And then, there's like, you and Indonesia. Your flags are like, totally identical."

"Hers is longer," she answers, giggling. "And anyway, you just admitted that I'm wearing _my_ flag and not some dumb Polish flag."

Feliks looks dumbstruck. "Oh, yeah! Hey, wait – did you like, just call my flag _dumb_? So not rad!"

Charlotte laughs, louder than she's ever had in a long time, so hard that nearby pair Yong Soo and Matthew stop talking about awful elder brothers and turn to look at them strangely. "Sorry," she chokes out in between laughs. "You're funny."

"Tch, yeah. I totally get that a lot."

"Did I mention stupid?"

"…no. But I like, get that a lot too."

Charlotte laughs again, and they talk well into the afternoon.

* * *

When Arthur calls everyone back to the conference room for dinner, they are the last ones to leave the building's lovely gardens.

"I wouldn't think you and I had so much in common," she comments lightly, playing with her glasses.

"Like, me neither!" Feliks laughs again. "Like, hey, Charlotte," he says, standing up.

"Yes?"

"How would you, like, describe me?"

"Hmm…" Charlotte pretends to think. "Shallow, selfish, immature, a total valley boy, and ambiguously gay."

Feliks nods happily. "You like, know how I'd totally describe you?"

"How?" she asks suspiciously.

"Mature, serious, smart, polite, sincere, and totally straight."

Charlotte looks at him strangely, and realizes she hasn't touched her novel all afternoon.

"Would you, like, say those totally clashed?"

"Yeah…" Charlotte trails off and remembers what she'd said earlier that afternoon. _"Their looks complement each other. Also, their personalities clash, and in novels people whose personalities clash always get together."

* * *

_

**Bah. Do. Not. Like. But whatever. **

**I might stop doing these soon. (Without touching on any of the Big 8, how?) I've been getting kind of busy lately and Mr. Paper Bag doesn't seem to want me to do any of the main characters. /sigh**

**Review anyway? =)  
**


	12. Hungary: Woman of Many Names

_woman of many names

* * *

_

They call her many names.

To her people she is Magyar. Erzebet. She is them and they are she, each representing the other, never one without the other.

To Gilbert, she is Ungarn. Veta. She is like the wind to him, soft and sweet and always _there_, but one could never hold it.

To Roderich she is Ungarn as well (but he says it with an air of class Gilbert could never hope to achieve). Elisabet. She is like the land to him, beautiful and down to earth, always _there_ and his to hold.

To Sadiq she is Macaristan. Yeliz. She is like river water to him, cold and pretty and relaxing to the touch, but it slips away from his fingers far too easily.

To Ivan she is Венгрия. Elizaveta. She is like fire to him, beautiful only from a distance, because she would hurt him if he got too near.

To Arthur she is Hungary. Elizabeth. My god is an oath, he says. The name of his favorite queen.

Only great women deserve to be named that, he'd told her once, softly. You are no such exception, Elizabeth.

Now she wonders if she is to agree with him.

* * *

notes:

magyar - hungarian term for hungary; erzebet - hungarian cognate of "elizabeth"

ungarn - german term for hungary; elisabet/elisabeth - german cognate of "elizabeth"

macaristan - turkish term for hungary; yeliz - turkish cognate of "elizabeth"

Венгрия - russian term for hungary; elizaveta - russian cognate of "elizabeth"

* * *

**The above is 199 words exactly. Just wanted to see what I could cram into that number of words. **

**SOOOO I'VE DECIDED TO CONTINUE THIS YAY**

**COMPLETE WITH CRACK PAIRINGS**

**BUTTTT updates are going to be scarce because I have a lot on my plate. Yeah. **


	13. Prussia, Hungary: Boundaries

The year is 1989.

The Iron Curtain is collapsing around them – Prussia can feel it in his bones, in his _heart_. And somehow, he wants to collapse along with it.

Russia is staring at the Wall, fidgeting and making noises in his throat with each man that crosses over to the other side. Ukraine and Latvia and Estonia and Belarus and Lithuania are all next to him, shivering – they're all here with him, together, now, his _family_, of sorts. And, Prussia thinks, they were kind of his family, too, in the short years they'd been together: they'd cared for him, and were just as damn close to being sisters and brothers as what Prussia had experienced.

But they weren't his _real_ family: they weren't Switzerland, they weren't Austria, and they certainly weren't his grandfather.

They_weren't__West._

Hungary huddles close to him, her breath leaving her mouth in cold clouds. Inside Prussia knows she's bursting with happiness at every East German who's dashed over the border into the waiting arms of loved ones. He knows Austria is on the other side as well. Waiting.

Waiting for her.

And it's not like they haven't seen each other at all. There have been their secret meetings before and after the boundaries were taken down, and their not-so-secret picnic. But Prussia knows that it's_not_the_same.

Prussia adjusts his scarf against the wind and says a prayer for every person who's found loves and friends and family and classmates and teachers on the other side of the Wall, and next to him Ivan mutters something inaudible and his voice cracks. When he turns to Prussia and speaks, there is a strange timbre in his voice.

"Prussia. Hungary. Go. Go _home_."

Prussia doesn't believe it at first. He doesn't__dare_ – is Ivan joking? Trying to lift his spirits up, only to have them crash down again?

"Go."

There is a strange sort of finality in Ivan's tone so much that Prussia feels his heart rise and his face light up with a million different emotions in front of their faces, that he turns and runs, _runs_, to his brother's nation whooping all the while. Hungary screams with delight, throws her arms around Ukraine and Belarus for a sweeping second, kisses each of the Baltics on the cheek, then dashes after him.

She's caught up with him now, and just over the line where the Wall used to stand is a man they've known since childhood: he is the same, immaculately clean with those stern purple eyes, and when his eyes land on the two of them – even though they'd seen him only a few months prior it feels like it's_been_forever

Hungary's dashed ahead of him and Prussia can see that she pauses for a minute over the boundary, returning Austria's stare. And she screams in joy again and launches herself into his arms, and Austria staggers back but he regains his footing and wraps both his arms around her waist, murmuring sweet nothings in German all the while.

Prussia hugs them, too – they_are_family after all but turns for only a second and sees Ukraine's face turned away and closed eyes and Lithuania's face locked in a grimace and Latvia's face that one of heavy sadness and Estonia biting his lip, and he feels his heart break for just_a_second

But then he sees his brother's shocked blue eyes and pale cheeks that break out into a healthy flush, and his strong jaw that opens to call out his name, and Prussia's face breaks into a grin.

Germany hugs his brother, hugs him tight, as if he's trying to make up for the forty years they haven't seen or held each other, and it_feels_so_warm, as if there's something Prussia has been missing for the last half century.

"Gilbert!"

He barely recognizes Hungary's voice through his happiness, filled with happiness and light and (love) and recognizes those thin arms that throw themselves around his neck. "Oh, Gilbert, aren't you happy, we're home – "

Austria gives him a relieved smile, and somewhere in the crowd there is France and there is Spain and there are so many others Prussia remembers, but he sees his brother and Prussia_smiles.

"Welcome back, _bruder_."


	14. Germany, Prussia: Element

"Absolutely _not_."

"Why _not_, West? I mean, it's not fair…"

"It's perfectly fair, Gilbert."

"It's _not_! Why does Francis get his own? And Feliks? And Alfred? And all the Nordics? And _you_?"

"Stop glaring at me, _bruder_. Since you're technically East Germany now, we kind of share it…"

"_Nein, _Ludwig. It's not fair. I want one for Prussia, too."

"You've never liked sharing, Gilbert. But you technically can't because nobody can discover anything in Prussia anymore."

"But…"

"That's final, Gilbert."

"You're such a mean little bro, West! And after all I've done for you…"

"Or rather, after all I've done for _you_."

"C'moooooon. Couldn't Marie Curie just…"

"She wasn't Prussian, Gilbert. She was _Polish_. And besides, it's not like it's a big deal if you have one of your own."

"And _she_ gets her own element on the stupid periodic table? _Curium_? It _is_ a big deal!"

"Gilbert, it's an _element_."

"And Francium? Polonium? Americium? Scandium? _Germanium_? C'mon, West. I want my own. It's like, a symbol of awesomeness."

"Stop being immature, Gilbert. If you want, go discover some new element and name it Prussium or something. Are you happy now? Wait, don't smile like that, Gilbert. You make me nervous when you do that–"

"_Gott_! West, that's _genius_! Sometimes I'm so proud of you. You think there's some cool undiscovered element in the backyard? Hey, where'd you put the old shovel?"

"Shut up, Gilbert."

"You can't shut me up! I'm going to discover Prussium, and when I get the Newbery Prize whatever for finding it, you aren't getting a mention in _my_ acceptance speech!"

"Ugh. Gilbert, get back here. _Gilbert_!"

* * *

_**notes: **Americium is technically shared by North and South America._

_Polonium and Curium were both discovered by Marie Curie, who named the former for her home country._

_The Newbery Medal is given to outstanding novels. Gilbert (probably) means the Nobel Prize._

**_a dialogue-only exercise I did because someone told me I describe too much._**

**_hmmm.  
_**


End file.
